


As You Like It

by HQ_Wingster



Series: Chasing Covers & Finding You [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Affection, Bonding, Boys In Love, Character Study, Denial of Feelings, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Boyfriends, Early Mornings, Established Relationship, Extended Metaphors, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Harry Potter is So Done, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Heart-to-Heart, Inspired by Poetry, Light-Hearted, Living Together, M/M, Prose Poem, Realization, Relationship Study, Sharing a Bed, Short & Sweet, Sleepiness, Teasing, Tenderness, Tom Riddle is a Sweetheart, Tom Riddle is a Tease, Touching, Unresolved Tension, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28598136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQ_Wingster/pseuds/HQ_Wingster
Summary: Cheeky(adjective):behaving with amusement or being endearing in some way, especially if you’re teasing or riling another for play; double points if you’re rude and are charming anyway, as your partner doubles-down and tries to ignore you all morningHe’s never been one for early mornings and you can’t blame him for being grumpy, especially on a weekend meant for catching up on sleep. But fortunately or unfortunately, he’s dating a morning dove who has his ways of helping him see the beauty in getting up. Or more accurately, teasing him until Harry can’t sleep anymore.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Chasing Covers & Finding You [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100486
Kudos: 62





	As You Like It

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a bit of a stressful week for me, so I wrote something indulgent and very flirty for myself. I like to think that Tom can be a menace — and a soft one at that — whenever he’s messing with his lover and riling them a bit. And so, I knew I had to get Harry thrown into this somehow.

Perhaps you could mark him as a fool for finding pleasure in this again, for wanting to lose what little innocence he had left; but you had to promise to Harry — and a pinky swear wouldn’t cut it — that you would mark Tom as a sinner for wearing a halo above his head. Because somehow, he had found one and was masquerading as an angel; or maybe the story was that he was one, but he often played as the Devil. And it would’ve been easy for him to believe that because that was so distinctly  _ Tom:  _ Harry could imagine the other man being a double-agent when it suited him, when it gave him everything he ever wanted and everything he couldn’t imagine, when it gave him the power to sway another’s thoughts to how he liked it. And when accompanied by the silver, having made a home across his tongue, hardly anyone was immune to what he would say with his voice. 

If he wanted you to run, you would do so without a doubt. If he wanted you to hide, you’d do so and bite your tongue. If he wanted you to yield, you wouldn’t argue or fight. If he wanted you to wake up, you would rise to him like the sun.

You wouldn’t burrow into a blanket or hide where he couldn’t follow, you wouldn’t squirm yourself away when he prodded you like a piano, you wouldn’t ignore his dear request or have him frown since he couldn’t see you, and you wouldn’t deny him of the pleasure he only found when he graced you — when his eyes fell upon the softness of your face and were tracing the sleepiness with nothing more than a gaze, or upon the slivers he could make out as he chased you farther into the bed as you were backing into the cushions and were buried beneath a breath. Because Tom was as cruel as he was ineffably kind, aware that you were neglecting what you wanted when you dared and tried to hide. But if he pressed you, you wouldn’t be honest and you would lie to him with cheek. You would offer him a glimpse of what he couldn’t touch but see; and perhaps, that was crueler than trying to evade him this morning.

But to Harry, he didn’t think so. He grumped as he pleased, tastefully ignoring every attempt to coax him out from under the sheets. It didn’t matter if Tom was beautiful or that the sunrise was like a veil, framing him in a gentleness that could turn another into stone. It didn’t matter if he was cooing or that he said  _ ‘Harry’  _ just like that, as if the name was synonymous to the very air he was breathing in. And it especially didn’t matter if he was fond of him doing this or that he found it rather funny how his boyfriend was avoiding him. That the only thing he could spot now was a tuft of hair from a pillow: how it curled like a tendril and met him partway in the bedroom, where frolicking just below it was a frown above a smile. Paired with a squint that had no fire, but Harry’s attempts were very amusing. Because he was failing, quite beautifully, at being pissed with him this morning, trying to seem like he wasn’t having it when he was a breath away from yielding.

And  _ that  _ — dear darlings — that was worth it to Tom. To see his boyfriend riled up and lightly struggling with his thoughts, attempting to fight for what he wanted but unsure of what it was: he couldn’t imagine a better way to start his weekend and defile it. Because to Harry, these were sacred and they were better spent in bed. Dozing off until eleven and only rising to grab a bite. So to be up, this bright and early, was sacrilegious to what he wanted. But because there was Tom and because he had Tom, Harry felt conflicted and was even a traitor to his own thoughts. Every ounce of him should be sleeping, but this  _ angel  _ wanted him up. And if Tom had willed it with a kiss or simply breathed it from his lips, Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to fight it for much longer. With what little of his soul left, he knew he would squander because all he wanted to see was Tom’s smile and him happy. So innocence be damned, his boyfriend was watching.

And as much as it amused him to be pudding in Tom’s hands, as gratifying as it was to just indulge for a moment, something distinct and sharp began to ring from his bones. Perhaps a blessing of stubbornness because he never did as he was told, and to throw that all away made him damn less of a Potter. So he squared up and sagged even farther into the blankets, ignoring the wrinkle of Tom’s nose in amusement.

“I would’ve killed you by now,” he stared at him with a fierceness, more befitting for a man who had sworn to vengeance, “If it weren’t for the laws.” And then, Harry glanced about: zeroing onto anything that didn’t remind him of Tom. But there was a chuckle and he looked. That was instinct to him at this point after waking up and living beside this  _ angel  _ for so long.

“Not because you love me?” He earned a smirk with that reply. And there it was — the Devil, shining brightly from a smile, as Tom fingered at the bed sheets and unwound them from around Harry. More than gentle as he did so, leaving pin-prints of his nails which had traveled from his shoulder before they ghosted near his wrist. And had Harry been fragile or moreso than he’d admit, he could see himself chasing and begging to be touched again. Until those nails were digging, until they were leaving proper marks, because Tom’s were a signature and he loved the way it hurt.

Harry knew this to be a ruse, but he didn’t care and it didn’t matter. Because he was chasing for him anyway and gradually, he was sitting up. “I hate you with a passion,” he all but mumbled into Tom before nipping at the skin he had been eyeing for a while.

“Oh, I know.” There was a fondness and a warmth to how he said it, as if there was nothing more natural than being greeted with this.

**Author's Note:**

> [ Tumblr](https://joeys-piano.tumblr.com/) |[ Twitter](https://twitter.com/joey_wingster)


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